


Harlot of Mars

by cheshcat



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Abuse, Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It's The Voice Isn't It?, Profligate, Why Do I Always Fall For The Evil Guy With Three Lines?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshcat/pseuds/cheshcat
Summary: When her role as Caesar's consort gets too much, Courier Six seeks a temporary escape in the Mojave night — but she can't seem to shake a certain Frumentarius who's more invested in her than he's letting on.
Relationships: Female Courier/Vulpes Inculta
Comments: 49
Kudos: 101





	1. Cold, Cold Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an edit of an old piece from 2013. It was originally just going to be a one-shot, but now I have ideas, dammit. Probably more to come, but no promises when.

'Vulpes,' Six hissed, trying to sound annoyed, 'not here.'

He ignored her, his hands travelling further up the silky skin underneath her shirt. He hummed appreciatively against her hair, his fingers tracing the bottom of her ribcage before both hands slipped down to her waist again, pulling her back against him.

' _Vulpes_ ,' she tried again, her attempt at sounding stern undercut by the smile on her face. 

'Hmm?' he mused, nuzzling her ear. She turned in his arms, only to have him start kissing gently down her neck.

'What am I—' Six gasped as he nipped a tender spot, 'supposed to do with you?'

He chuckled against her neck, tightening his grip on her waist.

'Whatever you like,' he murmured, drawing back and smiling down at her. The expression was dazzling. Six felt her heart flutter in her throat as Vulpes bowed his head to press that smile against her lips.

* * *

Six woke suddenly, her entire body tense. It was dark, the air icy in the Mojave night, and goose pimples bloomed across her skin as she jolted back to consciousness. She waited for the constriction in her chest to ease, willing away the ghostly warmth of arms that had never held her.

The bed creaked, the body beside her shifting and snorting. Sitting up carefully, Six gazed across at the sleeping form, unable to stop her lip from curling in disgust. She was overcome with revulsion: at herself, at this place, at this monster she was sharing a bed with. A shudder passed through her, leaving in its wake a stifling sense of claustrophobia.

With the exaggerated slowness of those trying desperately not to make a sound, she rose from the pre-war bed, its rusty frame threatening to betray her. Tugging on clothes and shoes, she stepped into the courtyard outside Caesar's tent. The night air was even colder here, her thin cotton vest not enough to keep it at bay. She went back inside, grabbing a shirt that was much too large for her, wrapping herself in it as if it would provide some protection from the consequences of her own decisions.

Emerging from the guarded tent complex, Six acknowledged the sentries with a nod. Neither of them so much as looked at her.

 _What do they think of me?_ she wondered, scuffing down the hill as her face twisted into an ugly sneer. _That you're Caesar's whore. That's what they think of you._

She sighed, turning her gaze to the stars that pricked the sky above. The Fort was quiet at this time of night, the only movement from sentries guarding the gates. She had never felt so isolated. Even waking up with a bullet in her brain had been better than waking up next to Caesar.

Six resisted the urge to scream, digging her nails painfully into her arms. _Caesar's whore,_ she spat at herself again, _the harlot of Mars_. Wandering towards the back of the camp, she brooded over her poor choices, wishing that Benny had killed her after all.

'Good evening.'

Six jumped, cursing.

'Dammit, Inculta.' She spun to face him, scowling at his smug expression. 'Are you trying to kill me?'

'Not at present,' he said, his eyes raking up and down as he took in her dishevelled appearance. 'Taking the air, are we?'

She threw him a dirty look. 'Something like that.'

He studied her face, waiting for her to elaborate.

'Does Caesar know you're out here?' he pressed.

Six made a noise of disgust and walked away from him without deigning to answer. He followed her as she stalked around the back of the concrete bunker, where she abruptly spun round to face him.

'You're not going to leave me alone, are you?'

'Afraid not,' he purred, apparently amused at her frustration with him.

'Look,' she rubbed at her eyes, 'can you stop playing the part of Caesar's rabid lapdog for one minute?'

'Watch your tongue, woman,' he growled at her, his eyes flashing in the dark.

'That's a no then.'

A helpless expression flashed across her face, although she smothered it quickly. Six sighed. This wasn't the Vulpes from her dream; that version of him wasn't real. She wasn't sure the man in front of her was capable of normal human feelings like attachment, let alone _love_.

'I just want to be left alone.'

She knew how pathetic she sounded, but she couldn't bring herself to care. What good was pride to her now?

'I'm afraid that Caesar's consort is much too _precious_ to be left alone,' he told her, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall of the bunker.

Despite herself, Six laughed at the absurdity of it. Precious, indeed. She was little more than a trophy, and a quickly tarnishing one at that. It wouldn't be long until Caesar tired of her. The thought brought her some relief, even though she would likely be killed, possibly in the arena for sport. Not for the first time, she wondered how she'd gotten herself into this mess.

Vulpes was still watching her, his expression as inscrutable as ever. _Fuck it,_ she thought, _I've got nothing to lose._

She turned away from him and approached the perimeter fence. It was unguarded; this side of the Fort backed onto the great ravine of the Colorado River, and there was little point in patrolling it. It took her a moment in the moonlit dark, but she eventually found what she was looking for: a loose fence panel, her one escape from the hell of her own making. She had just wrapped her fingers around the edge of it when Vulpes spoke again.

'What are you doing, profligate?'

His voice was right next to her ear, making her jump again. He was standing so close behind her that she bumped into his chest.

' _Taking the air,_ ' she hissed over her shoulder, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. 'There's nothing back here but cliffs, alright?'

To prove her point, she slid the panel to one side. It scraped roughly across the ground but made no other noise as she placed it gingerly against the rest of the fence. It wasn't the first time she'd done this, and she hoped Vulpes wouldn't make it the last.

Six gestured for him to go ahead. He didn't, giving her a pointed look instead. 

'You've never trusted anyone in your whole life, have you?' she muttered, pushing past him and through the gap in the ramshackle fence.

There was another loose section in the outer layer of the fence that she opened in much the same way, stepping through and onto a moonlit expanse of clifftop. She turned back to give Vulpes an _I told you so_ look.

'See?'

He followed, ducking his head to get through the gap. She could see him making security assessments as soon as he was through, surveying the area and the fence itself.

'Fuck with this and I'll cut you.' She glared at him as she went to pull the loose panels back into place, hiding the route in and out from any prying eyes.

His only response was to raise an eyebrow at her. _There's a human in there somewhere,_ she thought, _but he's buried deep._

Being outside the confines of the Fort was enough to lighten her mood, despite Vulpes, and Six took a deep breath of the cold night air as she looked up at the moon. The little patch of clifftop wasn't much, but it had stunning views of the river and the vistas beyond — and most importantly, it was an escape from the realities of her life, away from Caesar. She came here to cry. As broken down as she often felt, some vestige of stubbornness refused to let him see her weep.

Vulpes was watching her intently. Something about the intense look on his face made her feel very exposed, as if he was witness to all of her internal turmoil. Maybe he was, but she couldn't think of anyone who would be less sympathetic. She resisted the urge to laugh.

Her infatuation with him was ridiculous, desperate even. She despised herself for it but was also unable to quash it. He was the only person in the Legion who really knew her from _before_. She'd sooner throw herself to the hounds than admit it, but she'd give anything to see him in that stupid suit again.

Six sighed, rubbing her eyes again as some of the familiar despair crept back in. It was all moot anyway. She belonged to Caesar now, and they would _both_ be killed if Vulpes so much as laid a hand on her.

'Come on then,' she said, breaking the silence and gesturing for him to follow, 'let me give you the tour.'

She approached the visible cliff edge. There was a narrow track — little more than a small ridge — that led to a lower ledge of rock. Six had almost made it to the bottom when she stumbled, her feet slipping on loose scree, and Vulpes grabbed her arm.

'Be careful,' he hissed.

He didn't let go until they had both safely reached the lower ledge, where he glared at her.

'Oh lighten up, Inculta,' she said, pulling her shirt back into place where it had slipped off her shoulder. 'Besides, falling into the Colorado wouldn't be such a bad way to go — and what a view.'

Six gazed out at the moonstruck landscape. The river below wound through the rock like an abyss, pitch black among delicate shades of grey and silver; the orange cacophony of dust and heat was transformed by the night. Cool and tranquil, being out here brought her some measure of peace.

'Have mercy on me then, having to inform Caesar of your untimely demise under my supervision.'

She laughed, glancing sideways at him and catching the last moments of an expression that could have been called a smile by a generous observer. _God, he's so handsome when—_

Six caught herself, shaking her head to rid herself of the thought.

'I think you'd survive,' she told him, 'and so would Caesar.'

Helplessness and anger bubbled up in her gut at just how right she was. She took a step towards the cliff edge. She could dash herself on the rocks below right now and it would be little more than an inconvenience to both of them. The river was a hypnotic chasm; she couldn't drag her eyes away from it.

' _Fuck_ Caesar.'

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than a pair of strong arms were around her shoulders, dragging her backwards. Vulpes didn't stop until his back hit the cliff wall behind them, and even then he kept his arms around her like a vice, holding her against him.

'Don't you _dare_ ,' he hissed in her ear.

For a moment, Six was too stunned to speak. With her back against his chest, she could feel his heart beating hard. She swallowed as understanding began to slip into place. _He thought I was going to—_ she bit her lip, unable to finish the thought. _Was I?_

'Vulpes, I—'

'Do you think I'm blind?' he cut her off. 'Do you think I don't see what he's doing to you?'

She'd instinctively put a hand around his arm when he'd grabbed her, and the pulse in his wrist was pounding against her fingertips. He let his grip relax slightly, his nose brushing her ear before he spoke again.

'You are _wasted_ on him.'

Again, his nose brushed the edge of her ear, clearly not an accident. His voice was thick with emotion, and Six found her heart in her throat.

'Vulpes...'

She didn't know what she meant to say. His first name slipped out of her mouth again instead, itself an act of intimacy. Vulpes was warm, his breath playing across her skin; she could _feel_ him resisting the urge to kiss her neck, and sincerely hoped his willpower failed him.

'If I let go, do I have your word that you won't do anything stupid?'

He was trying to sound like his usual brusque self, but all it did was highlight just how soft his voice had been before. _You are wasted on him._ The words echoed in Six's mind; a dangerous revelation, treason enough to get him killed.

'Six?' 

He squeezed her shoulder. It brought her out of her reverie and she returned the gesture, gently squeezing his wrist where she still held it.

'If Caesar wants to kill me, he'll have to try harder,' she told him, a defiant smile on her face. 'At least Benny had the balls to shoot me.'

She was surprised to find that it was true. As dire as her situation was, some fundamental stubbornness kept her alive; the same stubbornness, she supposed, that had driven her to crawl out of her own grave once already.

Vulpes chuckled quietly, apparently satisfied with her answer, although he didn't let her go immediately. If it had been anyone else, Six might have said he was savouring the moment, committing it to memory — she certainly was. He eventually let her go and she stepped away from him, goose pimples spreading across her skin once more.

She wanted to turn around and see his face, but was afraid of what she might find. Vulpes put an end to her turmoil by reaching out to pull her shirt back into place where it had slipped from her shoulder again. The unexpected touch made her jump, and she turned towards him instinctively.

'You're cold,' he said quietly. 'We should go back.'

He wasn't wearing his usual icy expression, but the look on his face wasn't exactly tender either. Above all, he looked conflicted, and Six wondered if this was the first and last time she would see anything but his Frumentarius mask. The thought was unexpectedly painful, and she looked away abruptly, her gaze falling back into the inky depths of the river below them.

Vulpes reached out, turning her face back towards him with a gentle hand on the side of her jaw. He didn't say anything, but gave her a pointed look. _Don't do anything stupid._ Despite the cold night, his hand was warm.

'After you,' he said, dropping his hand to gesture at the path upwards. 'Ladies first.'

She couldn't help but laugh, the nicety so comically foreign in Vulpes' mouth.

'What a gentleman,' she murmured, smirking as she passed in front of him and began climbing up the narrow track. She didn't stumble this time, although she was certain that Vulpes would have caught her if she had.

As they approached the perimeter fence again, Six turned to take one last look at the moonlit greyscale, drinking in the last of her small rebellion. When she faced Vulpes again, the walls had gone up around his expression. There wasn't so much as a trace of the feelings he'd let slip earlier.

'I don't need to tell you that this stays between us.'

There it was: an acknowledgement of what had passed between them, that it was significant enough for secrecy. Six found it perversely thrilling. It was an intimacy she could carry with her back to her despot's bed.

'Of course not,' she told him, crossing her arms. 'Besides, who do you think he'd kill first?'

She didn't miss the way he stiffened at the thought. _He really doesn't like the idea of me dying,_ she mused. The very notion made her laugh. She shook her head to herself as she went to move the fence panel, opening up their way back into the Fort.

'After you,' she said, smiling at him. He didn't smile back, but he did go ahead of her, opening the interior panel and emerging back into the camp. Six followed, closing the gaps in the fence behind her. By the time she'd made it back into Caesar's territory, Vulpes was gone.


	2. The Hand of God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If literally the only reason that Caesar has a brain tumour is because of the potential pun on 'Et tu, Brute?', I'm here for that. It's a great pun. Whoever came up with it was right to hang onto it and never let go.

The Mojave sun beat down on a stifling afternoon. Caesar's commanders were gathered around the war table next to his tent, waiting for their leader to join them. There wasn't so much as a breeze among the tented citadel of the Fort and the desert air was heavy with dust, tempers fraying in the heat.

Preparations for the upcoming attack on Hoover Dam were well underway, but there were still decisions to be made and information they didn't have. As always, Vulpes and Lanius were butting heads. The Legate thought they should proceed anyway, trusting in the ferociousness of Legion soldiers, while the Frumentarius insisted that the missing intelligence could give them a key advantage. They needed Caesar's final say to break the deadlock.

Unfortunately, Caesar himself was otherwise occupied. In the still air, the sounds of slapping flesh and grunts coming from his tent were unmistakable. Lanius and Lucius shared a filthy, knowing look, smirking openly. They had both made their disdain for the _woman_ in their midst well known. By all means have a favourite, they reasoned, but put her back with the rest of the whores when you're done. No need to give them ideas above their station.

Vulpes was sitting in the corner, waiting patiently with a book in hand, although an astute observer might have noticed that he hadn't turned a page for some time. Unable to focus on anything else, he listened intently to the excruciating details of Six's humiliation. She wasn't even trying to fake her enjoyment, mostly silent apart from a few muffled noises of pain. Caesar didn't seem to care, however; they heard him come with a groan a few minutes later.

Vulpes had to close his eyes, fighting to maintain his composure. His own opinions about women weren't much better than those of the other legionaries, but Six wasn't just any woman. She was worthy of more respect than these cretins gave her and deserved better than being used like a common slave girl.

He closed the book in his hand with a thump, standing up. If he ever had his way with her, Vulpes swore to himself, he would make her writhe with ecstasy. It was an enticing image: Six, usually so quick with her retorts, rendered speechless with pleasure by his hand, unable to form any word but his name.

He returned the book to its place on the bookshelf, clearing his throat and mentally cataloguing the thought to revisit when he was alone with himself later. Joining the other commanders, Vulpes stood to attention around the war table, anticipating Caesar's imminent arrival.

Lanius and Lucius began to talk tactics again, their voices making it difficult for Vulpes to eavesdrop on the conversation that was now taking place in Caesar's tent. He couldn't tell what Six was saying, but whatever it was must have displeased Caesar, and the sound of a single hard slap rang out across the courtyard. Vulpes fought to keep his ire in check, clenching his jaw until it was painful and digging his nails into palms. The other Legion commanders hadn't even noticed, or if they did they didn't care.

When Caesar did emerge from his tent, there was a familiar crease in his brow that told Vulpes everything he needed to know. Recognising the expression, Vulpes felt his anger twist into a more complex tapestry of dread and apprehension. Six wasn't the only victim of Caesar's increasingly frequent migraines. They had managed to conceal the affliction from the rank and file legionaries so far, but it was an unacknowledged truth among his inner circle: the episodes were getting worse, impairing both Caesar's judgement and his character. There were still more good days than bad ones, but it was a close thing.

'Ave, true to Caesar.'

Caesar waved away the chorus of greetings, leaning heavily over the head of the table and looking grim. Lanius began to talk, but his voice faded into the background as Vulpes watched Six step out of Caesar's tent. She hurried across the courtyard with a hand covering her cheek, looking up and catching his eye for the barest moment. It wasn't long enough for anything to pass between them, but it made Vulpes' gut wrench all the same. He wanted to protect her, but he couldn't, not from Caesar.

* * *

The meeting didn't last long: Caesar barely had the patience to hear Lanius out before barking orders, one of which was for Vulpes to head to the Strip and gather the intelligence they were missing. After Caesar had returned to his tent, clutching his head and grumbling, Vulpes found his feet taking him to the medical tent in search of Six. Hearing the sounds of conversation, he came to a halt just outside, his infiltrator's instincts as keen as ever.

'He's getting worse.' Six's voice. She was talking with the slave, Siri.

'I know, dear. I'm the one who has to treat your bruises.'

There was a pause as he heard Six's breath hiss loudly through her teeth.

'It's only a matter of time before he really hurts you, you know.'

'I have to keep trying, Siri, while there's still a chance. Besides, I've survived worse.'

Six laughed, sudden and bright, and the sound made Vulpes' stomach flip. He ignored it.

'You have, but it's not just your body I'm worried about, dear.'

A silence, something passing between them that he couldn't see.

'I'll be okay.'

They both jumped as he opened the tent flap to enter, sharing a look of surprise. The slave woman averted her eyes in a show of deference, but Six's gaze followed him. There was a wide welt across one side of her face. It was highlighted with several thin cuts, presumably from Caesar's rings.

'Are you done here?' He addressed Siri, but never took his eyes off the angry red mark on Six's cheek.

'Yes, sir.'

'Then leave.'

Siri got up without another word. Six stopped watching him to smile at the slave woman, thanking her and briefly holding her hand as she passed.

Vulpes took Siri's seat directly in front of Six, close enough for their knees to touch.

'You shouldn't be so familiar with the slaves,' he told her. 'It's unbecoming of someone in your position.'

'My _position_? And what's that, bent over the almighty Caesar's desk?' She laughed again, bitter this time. 'I'm as much a slave as they are — I just have to pretend to like it.'

She stared at him, defiant. Her lack of respect should have earned her another slap, but he couldn't take his eyes off the evidence of the last one. It stirred feelings that he daren't acknowledge, dangerous as they were, and he reached out to touch her face without thinking.

Six caught his wrist, her combat reflexes still sharp. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking permission, and after a moment's consideration she let go, allowing him to put his fingers on her chin. He turned her face to inspect the damage. It would heal without scarring, but it must have been a vicious blow.

Vulpes allowed his hand to linger, anger and frustrated possessiveness coiling in his stomach. Their last interaction by the cliffs hung heavy and unspoken between them, his own words echoing in his head: _do you think I don't see what he's doing to you?_

'What did you say to him?' he eventually asked, dropping his arm and leaning back.

'Does it matter? You know how he gets.' She pressed a hand to her injured cheek. 'I could suck the cock of Mars dry and get a beating for it when he's having one of his migraines.'

Vulpes pulled a face at her indelicacy. 'Why do you do that?'

'What?'

'Bait me. You know perfectly well that what you just said is treason.'

Six smiled at him, her old audacity shining through, and he found himself smirking back. She was in a good mood today, despite Caesar's abuse. _I guess she's used to it._

'Well, _Vulpes_ —' she drew out his name, relishing the illicit familiarity, '—someone in my _position_ enjoys certain leniencies. I must make the most of them.'

She leant forward, never taking her eyes off his as she put a hand on his knee, sliding it a chaste few inches up his thigh under his tunic. Caesar's mark hung around her neck, glinting in the dim light of the tent.

'Tell me again what constitutes treason,' she asked him, her eyes flashing with mischief. 'Coveting that which belongs to Caesar? Touching Caesar's _property_?' She placed a hand on her own chest, over the mark.

Vulpes narrowed his eyes at her. As much as he would enjoy her hand travelling further, he wasn't going to rise to such an obvious ploy — but she knew that, drawing back with another bright laugh after a few seconds. The speed with which her demeanour could change still caught him off guard sometimes, but he supposed that was what made her so persuasive. He was the same when he was manipulating degenerates on the Strip.

'Besides,' she went on, her eyes alight with amusement above her reddened skin, 'you've never trusted me. You're still trying to figure out what my angle is.'

By Mars, she was attractive. He'd never met a woman so willing — and able — to play him at his own game. Vulpes tried to control his expression, but he didn't doubt that she saw straight through it. He cursed to himself. He'd given too much away, and now she was playing with him.

'You're right,' he said, 'I don't trust you. Why haven't you murdered him in his sleep?'

She tapped the scar on her forehead. 'My self-preservation instinct is legendary, haven't you heard?'

A shadow crossed her face, perhaps remembering their conversation at the edge of the Colorado River, its siren call.

'You'd just replace one despot with another anyway,' she said. 'At least this one has a greater vision than crucifying half the Mojave.'

She gave him a pointed look, raising one eyebrow, and he found a smirk on his lips that he hadn't given permission to be there.

'You do me a disservice.'

Her only response was a provocative smile. She was dangerous, despite her precarious position with Caesar; he had to remember that. There was substance to her exaggerated insolence, some more profound feeling, but she was right: he didn't know what her game was. Yet. She'd had months to make her move, whatever it was, and publicly siding with the Legion had cost her whatever alliances — and friends — she might have had. She hadn't done it for nothing.

The air in the tent began to thicken with tension as she continued to smile at him. He caught her eyes flickering to his mouth, dissolving the last of his doubts: the attraction was very much mutual, and very dangerous. When their eyes met again, Six bit her lip and Vulpes began to feel heat low in his belly. He had to cross his arms, not trusting his hands to stay away from her. They were alone, but not alone enough.

She looked away from him with a visible effort of will, breaking their intense stare and unwittingly turning the injured side of her face towards him.

'Why are you here, Vulpes?'

_To make sure you're okay._

'To talk business.'


	3. A Truth Universally Acknowledged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITT: we torture Vulpes (emotionally) and see how he likes it.

Six knew what she would find when she entered Caesar's tent complex. She could hear the murmur of voices as she passed the sentries stationed outside, and sure enough, there was Vulpes, standing to attention in front of Caesar's throne. Catching sight of her, Caesar gestured for her to come and stand next to him.

'Vulpes tells me he is in need of your services, my dear.'

'Is he now?' Six let her gaze slide from Caesar to the cold mask of Vulpes' face. 'And what, pray tell, could the leader of almighty Caesar's Frumentarii need from me that he can't do himself?'

She allowed herself a smile. She already knew what Vulpes wanted — they had discussed it in the medical tent yesterday — but she couldn't pass up an opportunity to needle him. Caesar laughed. On good days, he found her insolence charming; few others had the nerve to taunt his chief Frumentarius, and he enjoyed watching her vex his talented but imperious commander.

'A woman's touch,' Caesar answered, reaching out to pull her into his lap. He put an arm around her waist and Six saw Vulpes' jaw flex.

'Indeed,' Vulpes confirmed. 'We require some information that would be best acquired via persuasion.'

She raised an eyebrow at him. 'You mean to say your crucifixions are not _persuasive_ , Vulpes?'

Caesar laughed again and Vulpes glared at her, continuing as if she hadn't spoken.

'Degenerates are especially susceptible to _women,_ ' he intoned, 'as a consequence of their weak character.'

'I see.'

She didn't need to say anything else. Even over the distance between them, Vulpes could make out that provocative sparkle in her eye. _And you?_ it said, _What about your susceptibility to women? To me?_

'How could I refuse?' she continued, never taking her eyes off his face. 'I would be honoured to assist.'

Vulpes narrowed his eyes. 'Good. We leave for the Strip at dawn tomorrow.'

He made to leave, turning back at the sound of Caesar's voice. 'Ensure you take good care of her, Vulpes.'

'Of course,' he replied, 'although the Courier has always been very capable of looking after herself.'

'True enough,' said Caesar, squeezing her hip. 'Nevertheless, I shall hold you personally accountable for her safe return.'

'Very well,' Vulpes said, inclining his head. 'True to Caesar.'

 _I'll take better care of her than you,_ he thought, meeting her eyes for the briefest moment. The cuts on her cheek were still visible, red against her skin as she smiled at him, amused by his deference. Caesar murmured something in her ear and Six looked away, laughing quietly as the older man put a hand on her thigh. Vulpes turned to leave, disgust and jealousy roiling in his chest.

* * *

They met again in the early hours of dawn. The Fort was still quiet, the only movement from slaves preparing food and enjoying a brief respite from their masters. Standing in the courtyard outside Caesar's tent, Vulpes could hear Six moving around. She stepped out into the nascent light a few minutes later, dressed in her old armour with an unmistakable engraved pistol at her hip.

The last time he'd seen her look like that, he'd been trying to decide whether to let her speak or simply kill her outright, and had the distinct impression that she was thinking the same about him. His life would certainly be simpler if one of them had decided differently.

Shouldering a pack, Six came to stand next to him, closer than she'd ever dare during daylight hours.

'I hope you have something a little more elegant in that bag of yours,' Vulpes murmured, his eyes running pointedly up and down her attire.

'Some men are into leather, you know.' She smirked at him. 'But yes, I do.'

'Good.'

He found his eyes lingering on her mouth, on that infuriating smile. The sheer ferocity with which he wanted to kiss her was dangerous; they were only a few feet away from Caesar himself.

'You won't be needing this,' he said quietly, putting his arms around her neck to find the clasp of her necklace. Their faces came close and he lingered, taking longer than he needed and letting his fingers brush her skin. For all her teasing and bravado, he didn't miss the way her breath caught in her throat when he touched her.

Her reaction gratified him more than he cared to admit. He'd lost count of the nights he'd lain awake, cursing his own foolishness but unable to stop thinking about her, even before he'd admitted his feelings to himself. Knowing that she was as lovesick as he was made his stomach twist in strange and not entirely unpleasant ways.

He lowered Caesar's mark into her open hand, allowing his fingers to graze against hers. Six swallowed, her confident demeanour shaken as she looked down at the glinting metal in her palm. The message was clear: you're not Caesar's, not today.

She looked back up at him, the significance of the gesture not lost on her. Vulpes was gazing steadily at her: if he still felt conflicted about their entanglement, he was doing an excellent job of hiding it.

'Come on,' he said, turning to leave. 'It's a long way to the Strip.'

They were met by a pair of junior Frumentarii at the gates of the Fort, and Six raised an eyebrow at him.

'An escort,' Vulpes explained, 'per Caesar's request. For your protection.'

She laughed, eyeing up the young men in front of her. With her old armour on and a gun at her side again, she felt more like the infamous Courier Six with every passing minute. She didn't need protecting from anyone but Caesar, and perhaps herself.

'Very well,' was all she said. 'If that is Caesar's wish.'

Vulpes nodded, instructing the young legionaries to take up rear and vanguard positions to scout for threats.

'As far away as possible while still maintaining visual contact,' he told them. 'Upon reaching the Strip, you will disperse and wait at the usual checkpoint. We may be several days. Understood?'

The young men nodded and the first of them set out ahead. Vulpes and Six followed afterwards, keeping the prescribed distance. It was as alone as they were going to get for now.

They travelled in silence for a while as the day broke around them, wan sunlight turning into morning gold. Six was practically giddy with delight. She couldn't remember her life or her reasons for becoming a courier, but surely this had something to do with it. The freedom of an open road and no one to answer to — for a while, at least — was intoxicating.

Glancing at Vulpes, she caught him smiling, although he smothered the expression as fast as he could.

'What?'

He shook his head. 'Nothing.'

She grinned at him. He was wearing regular combat leathers as well, and it was easy to imagine that they were just mercenaries on the road together; a pair of caravan guards, looking for their next job. Outside the oppressive walls of the Fort, Six felt her mood soar, happy to simply exist with little thought for Caesar and his Legion.

Looking sidelong at Vulpes, she found herself admiring the sharp angles of his face, wondering how they would look in between her thighs. When he reached up to adjust his armour, her eyes fell on his hands: he had beautiful hands with deft, slender fingers. She already knew how they felt on her face, unexpectedly gentle, and Six got to thinking about how they might feel elsewhere.

'You aren't subtle, you know.' He was smirking at her, preening under her indecent gaze.

'I don't have to be,' she said. 'Tell me, Vulpes: do you actually need my help, or is this all a scheme so you can have your filthy way with me?'

She surprised him with an unusually sincere smile, borderline coy, and Vulpes felt his heart start to beat faster. Part of him was irritated by his emotional reactions: she had utterly bewitched him, and he hated himself for enjoying it as much as he did.

'Can't it be both?' he asked, watching her eyes sparkle with amusement. 'Besides, I thought you might appreciate an excursion.'

'How thoughtful of you,' she murmured. 'I shall have to find a way to thank you.'

She gave him a look which left absolutely no doubt about _how_ she intended to thank him, and Vulpes felt a wave of lust wash up his spine. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but at some point their mutual desire had become an accepted fact between them, the inevitability of their affair a given. The anticipation was excruciating.

A few moments of silence passed as they each entertained the same lascivious thoughts, the air between them singing with tension. Vulpes cast his eyes out ahead: their escort was just visible further down the road. They weren't truly alone, not yet, and they couldn't afford to be blasé about the very real danger they were courting.

'You would do well to restrain yourself in Caesar's presence.' He gave her a pointed look and she laughed at him.

'Oh, come on, let me have my fun. Being a whore is terribly boring, you know.'

'You're not—'

'A whore?'

Six found herself smiling, touched by his knee-jerk attempt to defend her honour.

'I am, by any definition of the word,' she went on, 'but if consort suits you better... then being a _consort_ is terribly boring.'

He turned to look at her, enjoying the curve of her lip as she smirked at him. 'Could you not find some less perilous pastime? One that doesn't endanger me as well?'

'Don't worry, Vulpes, Caesar doesn't suspect anything. He enjoys my insolence, just like you do,' she said. 'Besides, he thinks you might be gay.'

Vulpes stared at her in mute shock and the delight in her eyes twinkled brighter than ever. 

'He says you haven't had a slave girl in years. We spent a lovely afternoon debating which of your Frumentarii you might be fucking.'

She smiled at him, visibly pleased by his reaction as icy fury and hot jealousy warred on his face. He hadn't considered that Six might actually hold a position of confidence with Caesar, and that they had been discussing _him_ made his blood boil. In his mind's eye, he saw Six on Caesar's lap, a hand on her thigh as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. Her laughter behind his retreating back took on a whole new meaning.

The idea that there was any real intimacy between them filled him with rage, even as his rational mind told him it made perfect sense: he knew she had ulterior motives, and having Caesar's ear was the best way to achieve them, whatever they were. For the first time, he felt real doubt. Was she using him and he was just too stupidly infatuated to see it?

'You're playing a dangerous game, woman,' he hissed.

'The only kind worth playing,' Six replied, not batting an eye as she tapped the scar on her forehead, 'but if you'd rather I flirt with Lanius...'

She trailed off, trying and failing to smother the grin on her face as she looked out at the landscape around them, feigning innocence.

'He'd sooner rape you,' Vulpes snapped. 'Lanius prefers it when they scream.'

Six looked back at him sharply, the smile falling from her face as she realised that she had pushed him too far.

'And you don't?'

She was trying to keep her expression neutral, but Vulpes saw sadness beginning to pool in the curves of her face. He had reminded her of the nature of the Legion, the realities of rape and slavery that he took for granted as part of its fundamental character. To him, they were a necessity that sustained the only engine capable of bringing order to the world; to her, they were atrocities. Despite the jealous anger simmering in his chest, he regretted his outburst.

He realised that he had yet to respond to her question, and the shadows on her face were growing deeper.

'No.'

'No?' she echoed, unconvinced.

She turned her head away from him, no longer able to control her expression and not wanting him to see it. But he did, and it made him want to grab her by the arms and tell her every soft-hearted thought he'd ever had about her and that beautiful, infuriating mouth of hers. He had to suppress the impulse; they weren't alone enough yet.

'I prefer willing partners,' was all he said.

Six laughed bitterly, her lip curling in disgust. 'Do you find many of those among the slaves?'

Vulpes baulked, an eyebrow twitching in irritation. 'As Caesar rightly informed you, I have not taken a slave girl for a long time. Besides, not all women in the Legion are slaves.'

She glared at him, dubious.

'The Fort is a military outpost. It isn't representative of all Legion territories, surely even you can appreciate that.' He glanced at her, trying to gauge her reaction. 'There are noblewomen in the Legion heartlands. High-ranking officers are expected to take a wife from among them.'

' _Wives_ ,' Six rolled the word around in her mouth, seeing if she liked the taste of it. 'Do you have a wife, Vulpes?'

'No.'

It didn't look like he was planning to elaborate.

'But you are a high-ranking Legion officer, are you not?'

Six was watching him closely, the barest hint of a teasing smirk back on her face. She wasn't going to let this go. Vulpes sighed, looking out at the desert around them under the pretence of scanning for threats, buying time to frame his response.

'I have yet to find a woman I deem worthy of being my wife.'

She laughed at him.

'Surely the Legion produces good wives? Docile, submissive, deeply afraid...' she trailed off, meeting his icy glare with a defiant stare of her own. 'What more could you want in a woman?'

Six refused to look away from him, daring him to acknowledge the fallacy of his own feelings. The institutions he held in such high regard would never produce the kind of woman he wanted, because the kind of woman he wanted was her — and they both knew it. Despite everything the Legion preached about the desirable subservience of women, he wanted her precisely because she wasn't.

It was Vulpes who broke their prolonged eye contact, his face a mask of irritation. Six laughed again, quieter this time, and her expression softened. Being right didn't get her much, but rendering Vulpes speechless was satisfying, especially as a consequence of his own feelings about _her_. 

She still didn't quite believe it. Until that night by the cliffs, Vulpes had hidden his feelings perfectly — perhaps, she suspected, because he had not acknowledged them even to himself. Now it all felt blissfully, painfully inevitable. Watching the sun play across his sharp features, Six felt heady anticipation and dread twist in her stomach. There was no happy ending here, but she wanted the story to play out all the same.

'And let me guess,' she began again, breaking the silence between them, 'the reason I am Caesar's _consort_ and not his _wife_ is because--'

'Profligates are not Legion citizens, and therefore cannot marry.'

'I see,' she said, giving him a long, thoughtful look before scuffing a rock along the road in front of them. 'The Legion has a very narrow definition of what constitutes a worthwhile life.'

Vulpes opened his mouth to disagree, then closed it again. Outlined by the orange haze of the Mojave sun, Six herself was proof enough of that.


	4. Stockholm Syndrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Courier's primary SPECIAL stat is actually Luck.

‘Were you born into the Legion, Vulpes?’

He jumped slightly. They’d been walking in silence for a while, although he had never ceased to be acutely aware of Six’s presence.

‘Do you intend to ask invasive personal questions _all_ the way to the Strip?’

‘We can talk about me if you’d like, although you know as much as I do,’ she smirked at him. ‘I crawled into the Mojave fully formed. Every feeling and opinion I have is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.’

She laughed. ‘Believe me, I would _love_ to know what fucked up experiences contributed to my terrible taste in men.’

‘Indeed.’

Vulpes gave her a long look, perceiving genuine anxiety underneath her humour. Even when she was dissembling, some piece of her was always present; it was what made her so compelling. She was unwilling or unable to be anyone but herself.

‘No, I was not born into the Legion,’ he said. Six glanced at him, apparently surprised that he was deigning to answer her question. ‘I spent my early years in a tribe that was eventually subjugated.’

‘ _Subjugated_ ,’ she repeated, watching his face. ‘That doesn’t sound like a peaceful experience.’

‘It was not.’

‘So the Legion murdered and enslaved the only people you’d ever known — and yet here you stand, its greatest advocate and Caesar’s most devoted hangman.’ She wasn’t smiling at him anymore. ‘Does the heart in your chest even beat?’

‘If it pleases you to think me a monster, so be it,’ he snapped at her, ‘but it does not become your intelligence to be so reductive.’

She was watching him closely, drinking in his reactions and, he was sure, mentally cataloguing them for future reference. The suspicion in him told him to stop, to be silent and not give her any more to work with — but he needed her to understand. 

‘Don’t romanticise tribal life, Courier. It was brutal and dangerous. The tribes that survived to be subjugated by the Legion were only those savage enough to survive the endless fighting.’ He grimaced at the recollection. ‘Better that their ruthlessness be directed toward a greater goal.’

She was giving him a very pointed look. ‘And that’s what you think the Legion is: a greater goal?’

‘Isn’t it?’ he asked, observing her reaction now. ‘It brings order to chaos. Look at the rubble of your profligate cities; the depravity of New Vegas; the shambling impotence of the NCR. You are lying to yourself if you think that’s the best humanity can achieve.’

Six stumbled, watching him too intently to notice the uneven ground, and Vulpes caught her arm.

‘I know you, Six,’ he said, daring to stay close to her for a moment. ‘I know you think we can do better. You think more of people than they deserve.’

She didn’t have to say anything; the way she was looking at him was enough. Vulpes stepped back from her, the hard edge in his voice again. ‘But people need the direction the Legion provides. Without it we’d all be doomed to petty tribalism, warring in the shadow of what we once were. I know you see the truth of that.’

She frowned, looking away from him, apparently unable to come up with a satisfying counterargument. Vulpes was grimly pleased. He knew he would never change her mind; she was much too stubborn — but she was also too smart not to see the shades of grey in the world, as much as she might dislike their implications. Watching her gaze out at the Mojave, a desert breeze stirring her hair, he felt his admiration like a physical force in his chest. She would make an excellent Frumentarius, if the Legion allowed such things. Perhaps he could get Caesar to make an exception for her.

‘Vulpes, where’s our forward scout?’

The change in her demeanour was immediate, putting Vulpes on high alert. Scanning the horizon, he confirmed what she’d already realised: the Frumentarius acting as their vanguard was nowhere to be seen. _Dammit_. He’d allowed himself to be distracted. Six had already drawn her pistol, and he went to draw his.

‘No machete?’ She raised an eyebrow at him.

‘It’s a bit of a giveaway.’

‘I see,’ she said, her eyes scouring their surroundings before coming back to land on him. ‘It’s a shame about the skirt, too. You have nice legs.’

‘It’s not a—’ he cut himself off, deciding not to dignify her with an answer. By Mars, when they were finally alone together he was going to ravish that insolent mouth of hers. He could’ve sworn he’d had the upper hand not a minute ago.

She just laughed at him before crouching lower and pointing ahead of them. ‘There.’

Sure enough, there was a corpse at the side of the road, hurriedly obscured under a thorny bush.

‘I hope you weren’t fond of him.’

Vulpes’ mouth curled in distaste as he observed the state of the young Frumentarius. His neck had been hacked to pieces. ‘Hardly. I’ve had few promising recruits lately.’

‘So for all its grand designs, the Legion doesn’t produce good women _or_ good soldiers?’ Six asked. ‘How do you plan to—’

Her sentence came to an abrupt, winded halt as Vulpes barrelled into her, dragging them both behind a rock outcropping as a hail of bullets hit the broken asphalt where they’d been standing.

‘Dammit, Six,’ he hissed, disentangling himself from her and readying his pistol again. ‘Is mocking me really worth your life? Save it for when we’ve survived this.’

She laughed breathlessly, grinning at him as she got into a crouch behind the rock, her own pistol at the ready. ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport, Vulpes. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.’

It was true. She was visibly excited by the prospect of imminent combat, and Vulpes was reminded of who she had been before she’d chosen to submit herself to Caesar — for reasons he still didn’t understand.

‘You’re mad, woman,’ he said, watching her peer above the edge of the rock to try and spot their assailants, dropping hastily down when another round of shots ricocheted off the stone in front of them.

‘You knew that already.’ She smiled at him over the barrel of her gun. It was a beautiful, wild expression, and Vulpes felt himself fall deeper. ‘Don’t know how many there are,’ she went on, ‘but they’re taking cover on a ridge directly ahead of us. I think they’ll come to us, if we make them wait.’

‘Degenerates aren’t known for their patience,’ she said, ‘and they’re especially _susceptible to women_.’ She put a hand on his knee and stared at him for a moment of stony, deadpan silence before she snickered.

‘Do you take _anything_ seriously?’

‘Of course. There are plenty of things worth taking seriously.’ She laughed, that defiant glimmer in her eye again. ‘Self-important men, however, aren’t one of them. Speaking of…’

She nodded in the direction they’d come from, where their rearguard was running up the road, gun drawn. He managed two steps off the asphalt before he was shot, juddering backwards with the impact of several bullets and falling heavily to the ground.

‘There goes our escort.’ Six sighed. ‘Were you fond of _that_ one?’

‘No.’

‘Are you fond of anyone?’

Vulpes glared at her. ‘What is the point of asking questions you already know the answer to?’

‘So you _are_ fond of someone?’ she replied, glancing sideways at him as she began to peek over the top of the rock again. ‘There are four of them, coming towards us from eleven o’clock.’

Six carried on without missing a beat. ‘Tell me, is it Lanius? Or maybe Caesar himself?’

‘When this is over,’ Vulpes growled, moving to the edge of the outcropping with his pistol ready, ‘I am going to crucify you.’

‘Caesar then.’

They emerged from either side of their cover at the same time, each taking a few expert shots and downing one raider each before retreating to avoid another hail of bullets.

‘You aren’t missing much, you know. He’s a very selfish lo—’

Vulpes put a hand over her mouth and glared at her over the space of two inches.

‘I told you to _save it_ until we’re safe, woman.’ He took his hand away, and she grinned at him. ‘What are you even trying to achieve?’

‘I just enjoy pushing my luck.’

Six shoved him away and stood up, aiming down the barrel of her gun and taking precisely two shots, impossibly calm and collected as she made herself a perfect target. Vulpes reached up to pull her down and she fell tangled into his lap, smiling and breathless.

‘Are you trying to get yourself killed?’ he hissed.

She laughed, putting her hands on his shoulders and wriggling herself into something like an upright position. ‘I think I got ‘em.’

They both heard drawn-out noises of pain, and then the unmistakable sound of bodies slumping to the ground.

‘See?’ She grinned at him, pleased with herself.

They sat in silence for a moment, listening intently, but it was clear that the encounter was over. The raiders that had been trying to kill them were dead, and Vulpes’ attention returned to the woman in front of him. The smiling one, who was making absolutely no attempt to remove herself from his lap.

‘What is _wrong_ with you?’

Six tapped the scar on her forehead. ‘What’s the point of asking questions you already know the answer to?’

She winked at him — actually winked at him — and Vulpes couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Sitting there in his lap, mad and warm and so vibrantly _alive_ , all he wanted in the world was to touch more of her. His eyes flickered over her shoulder to the crumpled bodies of their Legion escort. There was no one watching them now; they were alone.

Six saw the movement of his eyes, caught the drift of his thoughts, and smirked at him. Slowly, deliberately, she put her knees on either side of his hips, never breaking eye contact as she straddled him. He resisted for a moment, then Vulpes put his hands on her thighs and squeezed, allowing himself just a fraction of what he wanted so badly.

‘If you’re playing with me, woman, I swear I’ll—’

‘You’ll what?’ she cut him off. ‘You’ll hurt me? You’ll _invite Caesar’s wrath_ upon me?’

She laughed, reaching out to touch his face. Vulpes caught her wrist and glared at her. ‘You can’t threaten me, Vulpes. There’s nothing you can do to me that I haven’t already done to myself.’

It was true, and they both knew it, although it didn’t do much to quell his natural suspicion. He heard the echoes of her laughter, sitting on Caesar’s lap, and felt hot jealousy in his veins.

‘Why should I trust you?’ he asked, letting go of her wrist.

‘You probably shouldn’t.’ She planted her hands on his chest as she watched his face. ‘But come on, Vulpes: you’re smarter than this. What good does it do me to seduce you? I can’t incriminate you without incriminating myself, and you know we’d _both_ be killed if Caesar ever found out about this.’

Her fingers played with the buckles of his armour as she continued, tilting her head as she spoke. ‘There’s no point trying to manipulate you. There’s no changing _your_ mind — you’re more of a zealot than Caesar is. And if I wanted to kill you, well,’ she met his eyes, ‘I’ve had plenty of chances.’

‘So maybe I just want you,’ she said, shifting deliciously in his lap to lean in closer, and Vulpes let her. ‘Like you want me.’

And then her mouth was on his, kissing him like she’d been starving for him her whole life. Vulpes grabbed her ass to pull her closer, then he tangled a hand in her hair and tugged. Six broke their kiss with a quiet gasp that turned into a breathy moan as he began to suck and bite at her neck.

‘You,’ he said in between his ministrations, ‘are impossible.’

He squeezed the flesh of her ass, glancing up at her face just in time to see her bite her lip. ‘You are insolent, seditious, and incurably misguided.’

She smiled that beautiful, infuriating smile at him and put her hands on either side of his face. ‘You wouldn’t have me any other way.’

‘And I _will_ have you,’ Vulpes growled, wrapping both arms around her waist to pull her flush against him.

She just nodded, sighing against his lips and kissing him again, hard and slow.

‘You will,’ she breathed, moving her mouth to the corner of his jaw and making him groan. He’d never wanted anyone so badly in his life.

‘Six.’ He groaned again as she nipped the skin of his neck, grinding her hips against him at the same time. ‘Gods, woman.’

‘Do you want me to stop?’ He didn’t need to see her mouth to know she was smiling against his skin. Of course he didn’t want her to stop. He wanted that mouth of hers _everywhere_. He had to suppress another moan as his mind’s eye presented him with an image of her on her knees in front of him, looking up with that smirk still on her face.

‘We’re in the middle of the Mojave.’

‘And?’ she finally drew back, eyes alight with amusement and desire.

‘And I’m not going to fuck you in the middle of the Mojave.’

‘But you _are_ going to fuck me?’

He found himself smiling and didn’t miss the way it attracted her eyes to his mouth. She really did want him; she wasn’t faking that. ‘Was that ever in doubt?’

Six hummed, pleased, sliding her arms around his neck. ‘Careful, Vulpes. You sound terribly _degenerate_.’

‘That’s because you’re a bad influence, profligate.’

She laughed quietly, kissing him again, but this time it was different. She wasn’t just teasing him anymore. Vulpes felt himself responding in kind, something purely emotional and infinitely more dangerous than lust unfurling itself in his chest. 


	5. Keep Your Friends Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A towel is basically a toga, right?

Six had gone quiet, her eyes fixed on the gate to the Strip as it drew closer.

‘I wasn’t sure I’d ever come back here.’

Walking through the outskirts of New Vegas and watching residents, drifters, and NCR troopers pass her by, she felt very alone. These weren’t her people anymore — although perhaps they never had been. She looked at Vulpes, who was observing her intently. She didn’t belong with him or the Legion either, but maybe she’d let herself forget that, at least for a few days.

‘What if someone recognises me?’

Vulpes didn’t respond immediately. His eyes lingered on her face, sensing something of the undercurrent of her feelings. He eventually broke off his gaze to look up at the Lucky 38 as it loomed over the city ahead of them.

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ he said. ‘Memories are short on the Strip. All anyone remembers about the Courier is that she betrayed them for the Legion.’

Six winced. He was right, of course. That’s what people thought of her, and she’d never have the chance to tell them otherwise, that she’d done it for _them_. Betrayal was her legacy now.

She pulled a face at him. ‘And what about you, with your face plastered all over the walls?’

Vulpes gazed dispassionately at one of the many NCR posters covering the crumbling buildings, his own face staring back at him.

‘People see what they want to see, which is usually whatever is most convenient. It’s easier to believe that I’m just a man, not an agent of Caesar,’ he looked back at her, ‘and that you are just a woman, not their fallen saviour.’

‘Do you have to keep rubbing it in like that?’

‘It’s a fact you seem to have trouble accepting,’ he raised an eyebrow at her, ‘as if I didn’t have enough reasons to doubt your motives.’

‘And rightly so,’ she smirked at him. ‘I’m about as trustworthy as you are.’

‘Indeed. We are quite the matching pair.’

His eyes flickered to her smiling mouth, and Six felt a rush of anticipation; she might have made a mess of everything else, but at least this piece of stupidity seemed to be working out. Vulpes put a hand in the small of her back as they passed through the gate to the Strip, and the touch made her stomach flip.

‘I have a room at Gomorrah,’ he said, guiding their footsteps in that direction.

She gave him an incredulous look. ‘ _You_ have a room? At _Gomorrah_?’

The corner of his mouth ticked upwards. Six found herself admiring how the curve of his lips sat in between the lines of his jaw and cheekbone. God, she wanted to kiss him again.

‘Mr Fox has, at any rate.’

‘Why does Mr Fox — a man of such upstanding moral character — have a room at such an establishment, and not somewhere more _befitting his standing_?’

Vulpes rolled his eyes, but amusement glimmered in them nonetheless. ‘I don’t think I need to educate _you_ on the benefits of hiding in plain sight of one’s enemies, or indeed, sleeping with them.’

‘I’ve benefited very little from sleeping with my enemies, actually.’

‘Well, we’ll see what we can do about that,’ Vulpes said, giving her a look that she felt between her legs.

It was almost enough to distract her from the unexpectedly painful question his words posed: were they enemies? She disagreed with everything he stood for, found the Legion and the things he did in its name abhorrent, and would happily see all he cherished burnt to the ground — but were _they_ enemies? The answer should have been simpler than it was, and Six turned away from it, unable to face what it meant.

Dragging her eyes away from his, she looked around at the garish neon landscape of the Strip. Dusk was just beginning to fall, and already there were drunks, prostitutes, and worse out on the streets. She felt disgust rise in the back of her throat just looking at them. These were the people she had ruined herself to try and save, and they had the gall to judge her for what it took to do it? She grimaced and heard Vulpes chuckle.

‘Agreed.’

Perhaps she’d been spending too much time with him after all.

He didn’t so much as glance at the scantily-clad women outside Gomorrah, or flinch walking past the NCR gathered around them. Six began to understand why he’d chosen Gomorrah as his base on the Strip: there were NCR troopers everywhere. Among this many off-duty soldiers, you were bound to hear something, either from their own drunken mouths or the whores they slept with. It was almost too easy.

She was almost overwhelmed when they entered the casino itself. It had been a long time since she’d been anywhere so sinful. The smell of cigarettes and spirits hit her like a physical blow, and the cacophony of music, shouting, and slot machines was almost deafening. _Is this really what I’m trying to protect?_

Vulpes nudged her. ‘Follow me.’

He led her around the edge of the main room, opening a door that led to a flight of stairs and through a quieter, less raucous bar. Six followed in silence, her eyes fixed on his back as her heart started to pound. This was it, and her stomach twisted in anticipation. She’d thought about this more than she cared to admit, but it was hard to believe that it was actually happening. She was about to find out exactly what kind of lover he really was.

_A dangerous one._

Vulpes stopped outside a room in a nondescript corridor, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the door. He held it open for her, and Six walked past him into a well-kept hotel suite, putting her bag down at the end of the bed and peering out of the window in an attempt to buy herself some time to slow down her racing heart. Closing the door, Vulpes spoke from behind her, as calm and measured as ever.

‘I was going to propose that we get cleaned up and get some drinks at the bar.’

Six turned, surprised, to find him gazing levelly at her. He’d barely taken his eyes off her since they left the Fort, and she realised now that he meant to do this properly. He meant to do _her_ properly. No quick hard fucks up against a wall for him — at least not yet. It was so absurd she almost laughed. She smiled instead, trying to ignore the knot of anticipation in her stomach as he began to unbuckle his armour.

She settled herself on the bed, making no attempt to pretend that she wasn’t watching him get undressed. ‘Aren’t legionaries forbidden from drinking alcohol?’

‘Exceptions are permitted, for appearances,’ Vulpes told her, watching her eyes as they tracked the movement of his hands. Six bit her lip, and her gaze flickered up to his face.

‘Does this mean I get to see the suit?’

‘What did you think I was going to wear?’

She laughed quietly, shaking her head at some private joke. ‘Good. I’m not a fan of the hat though.’

‘Noted.’

He shrugged off the last few pieces of chest armour and pulled his undershirt over his head, revealing a muscled and scarred expanse of pale skin.

Six realised that she had never seen him even remotely undressed and that that was a travesty of indescribable proportions. Suddenly his gentlemanliness wasn’t just absurd, but excruciating. She wanted to touch all of him _right now_. It must have shown on her face, because Vulpes was smirking at her.

‘Patience, Courier,’ he said, unbuckling the holster from his hip. ‘Anything worth doing is worth doing well.’

‘And am I?’ she asked, ‘Worth doing well?’

‘I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t,’ he murmured, watching her with cool eyes as his hands went to his belt.

God, he could be smooth when he wanted to be. He knew it too. Six wondered how often he seduced women in the name of getting information, and whether he enjoyed it. Not that she was jealous. It wasn’t as if—

Her train of thought cut off abruptly as Vulpes crossed the room, standing with his back to her in the bathroom doorway. She was so distracted by the tapestry of scars on his back that she didn’t even stop to think how unfair it was that he would face away from her while unbuckling his pants.

‘What _happened_ to you?’

Before she realised what she was doing, Six was standing, curiosity driving her to touch the mass of scar tissue that obscured the skin of Vulpes’ back. He tensed up as she approached and she stopped, her fingers hovering an inch away as he observed her over his shoulder.

‘I disobeyed orders,’ he said, ‘and was rightfully punished.’

Six’s eyes flickered up to his, asking silent permission, and after a moment’s hesitation, Vulpes nodded. She let her fingers cross the final inch between them, fingertips brushing the smooth canvas of skin. His back was cross-hatched so thickly with scars that she was able to trace a path from his shoulder to his hip without ever touching unmarked skin.

‘Caesar told me about that,’ she murmured, watching goose pimples spread up the back of his neck, ‘and that your _disobedience_ won the day. He didn’t mention this, though.’

‘I would have been crucified, were it not for his intervention. The flogging was a mercy.’

She gave him a crooked smile, flattening her palm against his back. ‘Caesar’s favour has a way of leaving a mark.’

Vulpes didn’t say anything, but she saw his eyes go cold and quickly removed her hand, although the remonstrance she was waiting for never came.

‘I won’t be long,’ he eventually said, closing the bathroom door behind him and leaving Six alone in the bedroom, utterly perplexed at what had just passed between them.

She was sure that he was as stupidly infatuated as she was — the way he’d kissed her on the road earlier was proof enough of that, and she bit her lip at the memory — but he always seemed moments away from being furious with her. _What did you expect?_ she asked herself, turning away from the closed door and eyeing up the large bed in the middle of the room. _You’re making a huge mistake, and you both know it._

The sound of the shower starting to run masked Six’s quiet, bitter laugh. Who was she kidding? The mistake was already made, had been made months ago when she’d first taken a knee in front of Caesar. Falling for the Legion’s spymaster had _not_ been part of the plan, not that the plan was going that well anyway.

Six sighed, beginning to undo the clasps of her own armour, acutely aware that Vulpes was naked just a few feet away. She thought about joining him, but decided that she would respect his unanticipated courtesy, as ludicrous as it seemed. 

The notion that Vulpes Inculta, of all people, intended to _court_ her was enough to make her laugh again. He knew perfectly well that she’d jump his bones given the slightest provocation, and seemed to feel similarly about her, if his needy groaning had been anything to go by. His insistence on seducing her _properly_ nonetheless made her feel dangerously warm and fuzzy. She hadn’t expected him to be a romantic.

When Vulpes emerged from the shower some five minutes later, the sight alone was enough to make Six’s mouth water. With nothing but a towel around his waist, skin steaming, he smirked at her wanton expression.

‘All yours,’ he said, inclining his head as he ruffled his damp hair with a towel.

She scrutinised his face as she stood up, finding no trace of the cold judgement that had been there before. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was looking at her with something close to affectionate amusement. The shower must have mellowed him out. Standing close to him in the bathroom doorway, Six indulged herself, running a single finger over his chest.

‘You are sorely testing my patience, Inculta.’

He put a hand on her waist, gently pushing her in the direction of the shower. ‘I’ll make it worth the wait, you have my word.’

 _God_. Those words in Vulpes’ mouth made heat trickle all the way down her spine. He looked delicious.

‘You better,’ she said, giving him a pointed look as she started to close the door, hanging on the edge of it and making no effort to disguise the lascivious crawl of her eyes down his naked torso.

‘Go on, woman — _get_.’ He jerked his head impatiently, but the smile that played around the edges of his mouth gave him away. ‘I’ll meet you in the bar.’


End file.
